


Limp

by orphan_account



Category: Mianite - Fandom, Mianite Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Attempt at Humor, Crying, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Vulnerability, Fluff, Fluff and Angst and Smut, Innuendo, M/M, Pining, Realm of Mianite, Sonja is a Good Friend but also a Bastard, mianite - Freeform, self doubt, yelling at god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 15:04:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20566346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Tucker has been fucking around with Mianite lately.Lately, their encounters have been feeling... different.More intense, somehow, like it’s more than just business.It’s just business....right?





	Limp

Limp, when used as a verb, means to walk with difficulty, typically because of a damaged or stiff leg or foot.

Despite both legs being perfectly fine, Tucker couldn’t help but wobble with each step he took, wincing and unsteady. He wished he was able to ride a minecart back to his base, or take a boat all the way back. Walking always fucking hurt. (It was better than trying to ride a horse, though. He’d tried it before. Never again. Riding and riding did not mix.)

Every bit of him throbbing in a satisfyingly painful ache. A memory. The collar of his jacket was flipped up, hiding his neck for very obvious reasons. He’d examined his reflection, bare before his god, in the still ocean water that shone with the light of the moon, the pale skin of his throat and downwards a watercolor portrait of bruises and red, angry marks.

“Gorgeous, aren’t they?” Mianite had whispered, running a warm, calloused hand through his hair, “I’ve always loved the colors of bruises. Especially on you. Oh- That… didn’t come out as I meant it to. You are so good, my champion. You always are.”

It was funny, in hindsight, how Mianite could go from fucking powerful to fucking to something close to awkward.

Tucker took a quick detour into a cave lit up with torches, knowing the shortcut like the back of his hand. 

And it was funny, how even though it was supposed to be dirty, quick, a one-time event, an exchange of… goods and services, it kept happening. Now he knew every way to get back home that didn’t involve stairs. Not only that, but he knew every excuse for bruises in the book, knew to not wear clothes he liked lest they be ripped off, and to discuss business before the… business… so he could use his brain before it was fucked out of him. 

Most importantly, he learned to wash his face before he left, so he could walk with clarity under the watchful stars. 

Tonight felt different. Maybe because of the full moon, everything feeling painfully exposed, so much so he trembled and shook like a leaf in the wind as Mianite’s hands trailed over his body, cupping his face in big, warm hands. Shook like a leaf when Mianite started undoing the buttons on his shirt, air catching in his lungs when his fingers barely brushed his skin to take it off. He had paused, left it on his shoulders.

“Is something wrong?” Mianite had asked, his breath like a warm wind against Tucker’s skin. “We don’t have to do this, if something’s wrong.” 

Really, he didn’t know, didn’t know what made tonight different from any other night. The moon, definitely. White and bright as the quartz temple, Mianite’s toga and eyes the same shade. Tucker had gently shoved him, trying to get him to lie down on the floor. Mianite hadn’t moved. Gently, he traced Tucker’s collarbone with his thumb, until Tucker finally let his shirt and jacket slip off his arms, fully revealing himself. Mianite took his time. No part of him left untouched. It didn’t feel like business. 

Tucker shook his head, coming to the ladder in the cave that led to his home, a trapdoor in his room. Climbing a ladder, surprisingly, wasn’t that painful. His arms did most of the work as he climbed, every bit of him aching. Weakly, he shoved it open, now in his house, his room, by his bed. 

Moonlight filled the room. Before he left, he’d put out the torches in his house, to try to convince everyone that he was asleep. Well. Everyone but Tom. Tom knew already, stumbled upon Tucker limping pathetically back home a dozen secret meetings ago.

No suave lie or excuse could’ve covered him, since the first thing Tom had said was “Your pants are on inside out.” If it weren’t for the darkness of that night, Tom would’ve seen his face flush bright red. 

The worst part wasn’t that Tom knew. Nobody believed Tom, no matter how many times he said it, or they thought he was joking. No, the worst part was that Tom didn’t care. Just used it as a punchline. Didn’t mock him or make rude remarks, only teasing. 

Tucker paused. No, not that. The worst part was he called Mianite his boyfriend.

“Is that why you’re his champion?” Tom had joked one day, “because you let him fuck your brains out?”

“Shut up.”

“Nah, Mianite’s your boyfriend, isn’t he?”

Boyfriend. Mianite. The two words fit poorly together. Really, Mianite was more of a long-term booty call, but make it business. Or a sugar daddy. Not a boyfriend. Boyfriend was too large of a term, implied more than just sex. 

Almost reverently, he traced his hand over one of the many marks Mianite left on his throat. It throbbed under his touch.

He slipped off his jacket, letting it fall with a swish to the floor. Slowly, he ran his hand through his own hair. Felt nothing like Mianite, how warm his hands were, no matter how rough. 

The first time they did this was after he broke his sword. A mutual exchange, according to Mianite, an enchanted sword for Tucker, in exchange for some… company. Tucker thought company meant hanging out. He didn’t mind when it didn’t, Mianite whispering a half-assed apology for the confusion before Tucker grabbed him by the hips, Mianite smashing their lips together, fumbling for clothes and skin to scratch. A real mess. Clacking teeth, tearing clothes, heaving breaths, sucking, biting. Mianite drew blood with a particularly hard bite, holding Tucker’s hips tight. He hardly remembered that. What he remembered was the graze of his thumb, brushing over his hipbone, the apologetic kiss against the bite, buzzing magic healing it instantly.

Sighing, he undid his shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Shakily, he pressed the skin of his chest, the feeling electric where the hickies were. More than usual, it seemed. Definitely the full moon. Not anything else. 

He undid the button on his pants, kicked them off, same with his underwear. Flopped unceremoniously onto his bed in a big poof of blankets and sheets. One was from Mianite, when he tore his clothes up so much he couldn’t walk home in them. So he gave him a blanket and teleported him home as an apology. The blanket smelt of the sea no matter what. 

He clamped his eyes shut, the moonlight too bright, too exposing, but he made no move to crawl under the covers. 

“You don’t need to be shy,” Mianite had whispered, just an hour ago, thumb grazing over his collarbone, warm. Reverent. “I’ve seen you naked before. Let me see you again, my champion.”

Now he felt alone, scalded by the moon. 

Had he washed his face before he left the temple? Is that why his thoughts were so messy? Or was it just the full moon?

Without thinking, he clasped his hands together.

He breathed. There was so much he wanted to say, but he didn’t know how to say it. It was probably one of those ways, where there was no easy way to say it or do it. But it had to be done. 

“Come here, my Lord,” he wanted to say, “I’m lonely. I want you here, with me. Hold me, rock me to sleep…”

A minute passed. He unfolded his hands, laying them palm down on the bed, the tops of the blankets cold. 

One time, Mianite had gone a little overboard. Tucker didn’t remember much of that night, just climaxing over and over again until he couldn’t even moan anymore, whimpering and drooling. A pliant heap on the floor. Mianite cleaned his face and his body with a washcloth, wet and salty from the ocean just outside of the temple, healing the worst of the scratches with a little magic as he did so. He had tried to be gentle where he had bitten and bruised and grabbed at his skin. That night, his god had carried him home. Held him in his arms, right against his chest, inhumanly warm and strong. Laid him down in bed. 

Tucker wrapped his arms around himself. 

—

Morning came quickly, leaving him unsatisfied and tired. 

He forced himself out of bed, still sore and bruised, dressing quickly in the clothes he’d discarded on the floor the night before. For a moment, he considered getting a healing potion to get rid of the bruises, but instead flipped his collar up. The rest would be hidden by his armor, which he put on in careful, measured movements. His muscles ached and protested as he did so, especially as he threw open the front door to his home and started walking down All. Those. Stairs. 

Hiding the pain was easy. Hiding the shock he felt when he saw Sonja at the bottom of his stairs was not. She was standing there, ever so casually, watching as he came down. Were the many marks on his body visible? There came the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable. 

“So I was at the temple last night-“

His heart dropped to his stomach. 

Oh no. 

Oh no no no no no. 

“I can explain,” he said in a rush. 

Sonja raised an eyebrow at him. She was holding her sword, set on her shoulder. It was a gift from Mianite, rippling with magic like the ocean waves outside the temple. How many diamonds had it cost her? For Tucker it would only be a single night and a few orgasms. A rush of guilt crashed into him and his face flushed red, ashamed. 

Sonja rolled her eyes.

“No, you don’t need to explain anything-“

“How long have you known?”

Her brows furrowed.

“Known?” 

“Don’t make me say it-“

“No- Say it.”

Tucker inhaled. How could this be happening? He’d been so careful not to be caught... 

Suddenly, the ground became a very interesting sight, and he stared at the grass growing at his feet, face red.

“How long have you known that I’ve been fucking Mianite?”

The sword made a very interesting clattering noise when it hit the ground, metal clanging against the wooden steps.

Awkwardly, she chuckled.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Tucker said nothing.

“Tucker?”

He kicked up a little dirt.

“...please say sike.”

He gnawed his lip, took in a sharp breath— and bolted towards spawn, every bit of his body screaming in sore protest as he ran. Sonja chased him, shouting. Tucker looked over his shoulder, Sonja close behind him. He turned around, faked one way and ran the other, and started sprinting as fast as he could. Exhilaration, nervousness, pain, and shame felt like they were setting him on fire, burning him from the inside out. Like Mianite’s hands on his skin, burning hot and harsh-

Sonja let out a shout. He looked behind him, just for a moment. She lept on his back. His knee gave. They fell to the ground, Sonja with a quiet grunt and Tucker with a shout of pain as his bruised chest slammed against the ground.

He tried to sit up, but she wouldn’t move off of his back. 

Time stood still, but not a meaningful, significant still. More like the split second of still when one is walking down the street and realizes they’ve lost or forgot their keys. The still between when the joke is said and the audience laughs. An awkward, stilted silence that lasted all of five seconds. A bug landed on the grass in front of his face.

“...I’m gonna guess we weren’t talking about the same thing.”

“Yeah, no shit!” She cried, “I was gonna yell at you for not replacing the prayer books after using the last one— like we agreed on, might I add— but..” she rolled off of him, letting him sit up, “Tucker, holy shit. Holy shit. Tom wasn’t joking...”

He tried to think of a joke to say, but all it did was make him look awkward and embarrassed- which he was. Sonja leaned in a little, whispering.

“How long?”

Jericho blinked, bewildered.

“About ten inches, at least,” he said, stunned, “thick, too.”

Sonja’s jaw dropped and eyebrows shot up, face redder than her hair.

“No, I meant- how long have you two been dating?”

“We’re not dating,” he snapped. She raised her hands in mock defeat.

“Is he why you’ve been like this so much?”

Tucker blinked.

“Like what?”

“In this... weird, sexually frustrated melancholy. I just thought you were the type to cry after cumming so you got really sad whenever you jacked off. It’s really worrying me.”

“Tom’s rubbing off on you,” he grumbled, a poor attempt at deflection.

“Mianite’s rubbing you off,” Sonja pointed out.

Tucker glared at her, crossing his arms, but knew he couldn’t say anything. She sighed. 

“Alright then. How long have you been his sugar baby?”

“I’m not his sugar baby!” He retorted, “I’m his champion!” He whined. Sonja tilted her head.

“Are the two things related?”

“No! No-“ he insisted, ashamed of how desperate he sounded, “I just needed a sword-“

Sonja burst out laughing. Tucker punched her on the shoulder, face an uncontrollable shade of red. Sonja’s laugh didn’t cheer him up like it usually did, but he laughed along regardless.

“Sorry,” She said between fits of laughter, “just that you got two swords for the price of one,”

He chuckled. Okay. That was actually funny, all things aside, especially when he realized he’d got the sword right after he had gotten… the sword. He remembered lying on the floor of Mianite’s temple, the memory of Mianite’s hands still hot on his body. Mianite thanked him for their business, placed the sword on the ground next to him, and left him to get dressed by himself. The laughter slowly died out, awkward silence hitting them like a freight train.

“To answer your question,” Tucker said, just a little more stilted than appropriate, “it’s, um, been a few months. Not every day of course. But whenever I need something and don’t have many diamonds. Or if I don’t think diamonds will be enough. Or if I want-“

“Or if you want to see him?”

Tucker scoffed, running his hand through his hair. That happened sometimes- sometimes he would find himself in front of Mianite’s throne, waiting for his god to appear. Most days he’d leave a prayer or offering, but sometimes he knelt before the throne, waiting for Mianite, with nothing to give but himself. 

“Nah, that’s stupid. I just go for swords, armor, whatever I may need, and he gives me that and… you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” she paused, taking his hands, “you’re okay, right? I meant it when I said you were acting different, and it’s a little scary. I’m… shocked, to say the least. And worried. I want to make sure you’re okay. You’re okay, right?”

He nodded and squeezed her hands, not sure if he meant it.

“...Just don’t bring it up again.”

Slowly, she nodded, staring at him like he was the most pitiful thing in the world. Nothing but a loyal dog. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than for Mianite to be there, scoop him up in his arms and cradle him close to his chest. To take him to some secluded place, run warm hands that buzz with magic over his skin, kiss and hold him like a lover, like someone he wanted in more than one way. 

The feeling persisted as Sonja stood and waved goodbye, saying something he didn’t hear, but nodded and smiled to anyways. The sun in the sky taunted him. With a sigh, he flopped onto his back, staring up into a beautiful blue sky, clouds steadily dancing along, billowing. Mianite always appeared and disappeared in a bolt of lightning or the roar of a strong wind- maybe he was on one of those clouds, watching him. Looking down on him with that same pitying look Sonja gave.

Mining sounded good. He stood and pulled his pickaxe from his pack, and went to go find his mine, eyes glued to the ground the entire time.

\--

It was night when he surfaced. Face dirty with coal dust and sweat, pack filled with gold and iron and a few diamonds. The night sky was only a smidge brighter than the torchlight of the mine. And even though it had been hours, hours of toil and hard work, all he wanted was Mianite. He roughly wiped his face, hand coming back dirty with coal dust and sweat. God, he’d need a bath. Or to hop into the ocean.

Strangely enough, the ocean sounded much better. Nothing like cold, salty water to wash away his thoughts of Mianite’s big hands cupping his face, tenderly brushing it of all the dust and sweat. A stray thought, a fever dream of a warm bath, Mianite washing his hair for him, cooing praise, kissing him. Taking care of him like he was delicate, precious, something deserving of protection so it wouldn’t break. He wouldn’t break.

With trembling hands, he slipped off his chest plate, shoved it into his pack, and walked to the temple. The night wind blew through his jacket and shirt, but he walked against it, to the temple, to the sea. 

It wasn’t far away, only took him a few minutes to walk to. The waves lapped against him as he waded in, then completely submerged him as he ducked down and began to swim, eyes squeezed shut to keep from getting salt in them. Blindly, he swam until his hand touched the cold marble of the temple entrance, and he pulled himself up.

His head spun from how huge the temple was- it always did, no matter how many times he’d visit, wide and made of pure white marble, little gardens nothing but shifting shadows in the dark of night. But inside, the temple was alight with glowstone and redstone lamps, torches placed in the darkest corners to keep mobs away. They smoked steadily. Tucker wiped at his face, hoping the coal was all gone.

Every step he took echoed. There, carved of fine marble, was Mianite’s throne. He gulped. He slipped the pack off of his back and set it to the side, along with his soaked hat and jacket, the rest of his armor going with it, the pack and the armor hidden in one of the little gardens. Wringing some sea water out of his shirt, he stumbled to the throne. 

Then, he knelt. 

Time passed eerily slow, the waves a hollow, haunting hum in the hallowed hall. The first time he had done this, he’d paced and paced and paced until he couldn’t anymore, bubbling with nervous energy and anticipation. Now he knelt. And he was boiling over with emotion, but he didn’t know what he was feeling, what was causing his head to buzz and spin, his hands to quiver as they sat on his knees. 

No, he knew. He’d just never, ever say it.

He lowered his head. A harsh wind blew through the temple. Thunder cracked. With a flash of lighting, Mianite appeared. Tucker looked up. There he sat, regal and imposing, the toga draped regally over tan skin, leaving barely anything to the imagination. There was nothing left to the imagination- he’s seen everything. He craved everything. Even just the sight of him sparked a flame of arousal in the pit of his stomach. A conditioned response. 

“My champion,” Mianite said warmly, the hairs on Tucker’s neck standing up.

“My lord.”

Mianite moved- Tucker could hear the gentle shift of the fabric of his toga. When he looked up, his heart thudded hard against his ribs at the sight of Mianite relaxed in his throne, leaned back and legs spread invitingly. 

“Now then,” Mianite said, ever so casually, all business, “What do you come here for?”

Tucker looked over to his pack. “My armor, uh, broke.”

Mianite’s eyebrows rose, head tilting.

“Really. That’s odd. I thought it would last longer,“ Mianite’s eyes bore into him, “I enchanted it myself. It was supposed to be unbreakable.”

“...Unbreakable. Yeah.”

Mianite stood from his marble throne, footsteps eerily quiet for someone as big as him- seven feet tall, muscles that made him look like a statue, a beautiful impossibility. He stopped in front of him, Tucker’s breath catching in his throat as his god ran his hands through his hair, gently pulling. Tucker let his head loll back, staring up at Mianite.

“Then what are you here for?”

Tucker swallowed.

“Tom’s been acting up,” he quietly insisted, “I’m here for armor.”

“It’s not that,” Mianite said. They both knew it was true. “If it was, then you’d ask for a sword or a potion, something to make you stronger.”

It would’ve been silent if it weren’t for the waves.

Mianite’s fingers returned to his hair, carding through the still wet strands, pushing just a little to keep him down on his knees. It’s not like he was planning to stand anyways, but he stayed kneeling as Mianite returned to his throne, greatly enjoying the view. Fuck, he could probably crush a watermelon between those thighs...

“Then why have you come to see me?”

Tucker snapped out of his stupor, eyes flicking from Mianite’s thighs back to his face. 

“Look,” Tucker tried to joke, “I’m just trying to suck your dick, goods and services, you know?”

Tucker awkwardly laughed. Mianite didn’t, just staring through him with pure white eyes. 

“Come here.”

Tucker forced himself to stand, legs weak and sore. Nervously, he took a few steps forward. Mianite gestured for him to come closer. Holding his breath, he walked even closer until he was mere inches away, awkwardly climbing into Mianite’s lap, straddling him. Mianite wrapped a strong arm around his waist. Tucker found himself leaning into the touch.

“Are you feeling well, my champion?” Mianite asked.

Tucker smiled.

“Yup. It’s been all good. Now take this off and let me-“

He tried to reach for the pin holding his toga together, but Mianite grabbed his hand. 

“You’re not feeling well, are you?” He said.

Tucker looked away.

“It’s nothing, my lord. Nothing that needs to be worried about, my lord.”

“Really?”

“It’s…” he sighed, “It’s stupid.”

Mianite chuckled, “before it was nothing, and now it is stupid?”

“Well, it is,” he said, “it’s like, uh, like your toga, getting in the way of all the good stuff-“

He tried again, testing Mianite's grip. Being fucked into mindlessness sounded nice. He wouldn't have to think about any of this if they just returned to casualties. He could just melt into the feeling and let his messy emotions fizzle out against the waves of pleasure. Then wash his face and body in the ocean. Walk home alone, but clear-headed and clean.

Mianite gently squeezed his hand. It hurt, just a little, a reminder of how weak he was compared to his god; how small he was against him, looking up into white, glowing eyes. If he stared in those eyes any longer… he let his gaze trail down to Mianite’s chest. Nothing but muscle and power, magic coursing under his skin, veiled by the pristine toga.

“You can tell me,” Mianite promised. 

Tucker gulped. It felt like he was trembling. How would he even start to say this? When did it even begin? The waves seemed to have picked up. Wasn’t the sea always bad during a full moon? No, yesterday was the full moon. And it was still bad. It wasn’t just the moon, was it? Or the clouds or the darkness? None of that was changing the sea, changing him. Making him feel the way he did. His breaths matched the pace of the waves, hiss in, crash out. 

Mianite stared at him. 

Tucker wished he could look at him differently, not notice the little things. Go back to just business. Just simple fucking and receiving gifts and going their separate ways. Only him and the way that the toga draped over his body, the golden clasp at his shoulder, the promise-filled noise it made when undone, hot, tan skin and strong hands filling his thoughts, indescribable. How could he say it? How could he even begin to say it, to explain himself? Explain all of this away? How many times had he been held like this, firmly in Mianite’s lap, getting fucked so hard he clawed at his skin, being so easily manhandled? There had to be a way, a way to keep it all under wraps. Because of Mianite’s arm around his waist, couldn’t move even if he wanted to. 

Mianite tilted his chin up, forcing him to look into his eyes. 

“Please, you can tell me, Tucker.”

He released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Released it in a wet, ugly sob that shook him to his core, unable to hide his face from Mianite’s gaze-

“I’m in love with you.”

Mianite’s brows shot up. 

“You are?”

Tucker nodded, tears dripping down his face, salty as ocean water.

“I- I know this wasn't supposed to be serious,” he wheezed between sobs, “It was supposed to be casual sex, it was just business, I don’t- I don't know what happened. I’m so sorry my lord. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry-“

Mianite’s hand cupped his cheek, gently wiping a tear away, Tucker leaning into the brief, warm touch, as if it could heal this type of pain. He sniffled, cringing at the sound it made, at how he must’ve looked to Mianite, and started sobbing anew. What a champion he was. 

The admission made him feel sick. Everything he had built himself up to be conflicted with falling for a being he could never possibly be on the same level with. 

Face burning and whole body trembling, he tried to wiggle away from Mianite, to run away with a little dignity left. But the arm around his waist wouldn’t let him go, holding onto him tightly. 

Mianite pulled him against his chest, Tucker resting his head against his gods shoulder, tears catching in the fabric of his toga. A warm pressure settled onto his back- Mianite’s hands, keeping him held tightly against him.

When he spoke, Tucker could feel it rumble in his chest, like thunder.

“Don’t run away,” he said, “I can understand why you feel this way. Humans and their attachments never cease to amaze and confuse me. What type of love?”

He sniffled, trying to hide his face further.  
“Don’t make me say it.”

Mianite ran his hand through Tucker’s hair, Tucker suddenly painfully aware of how close they were to one another, and even if he could hide his face, Mianite would still feel him, heaving and weeping against him like a child. The thought made him squirm, an unwelcome inadequacy taking root within him.

“You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, yes you are,” Mianite said, the low, thundery rumble of his voice shaking Tucker to his core, “You’re scared of being seen as anything less than my champion. Scared to speak your mind, else they think you’re weak. That I would think you are weak. Tucker, you are my champion, and you have done nothing to prove you are unworthy of that title. And even if you limped to me, weeping and licking your wounds, I would still call you my champion. Tucker, look at me.”

Tucker tried to catch his breath, stop the tears. 

“Tucker.”

Mianite’s hand left his hair, settling on his back, loosely holding him. He could break free if he wanted. Run away, pretend this didn’t happen.

“Please.”

Tucker squeezed his eyes shut, blinking out the last of the tears. His hands bunched in Mianite’s toga. Slowly, slowly, he pulled his head back, looking up into Mianite’s eyes, alight with so many things. Not just white, but so many things, all encompassing and bright.

Mianite cupped his face in his hands, wiping away more tears. Tucker swallowed, breaths coming unevenly.

“You will never be weak in my eyes.”

Mianite closed the distance between them. His lips were dry and warm, Tucker going stiff for only a moment before melting into it, heart pounding desperately in his chest, senses alight and mind a mess as he tilted his head, deepening the kiss, both of his hands flat against Mianite’s chest. There was a warmth wrapping him up, inside and out and all over, making his head spin. Mianite’s thumb idly brushed over his cheek, and Tucker realized he was still crying.

Mianite broke the kiss, slowly pulling back.

“What do you need?” He asked, voice gravelly.

Red faced and wanting, Tucker pawed at his chest, trying to find the clasp of the toga. With a kind laugh, Mianite took his hand and led it to the golden clasp. Tucker inhaled sharply when he undid it, revealing the tan skin and inhumanly strong muscle of Mianite’s chest. Before he could do anything, Mianite kissed him again. Slow and gentle and overwhelming, hands trailing down his body, slipping under his shirt. Tugging gently at the hem in a silent question. Tucker whined into the kiss. Mianite pulled his shirt up over his chest, then pulled away to get it over his head. 

Mianite tossed it on the floor somewhere, his hands resting on Tucker’s waist. There came that feeling of smallness again, especially as he rocked his hips against him. He expected Mianite to start unbuttoning his pants, bite at his neck, but instead he kissed him again. Tucker couldn’t help but whimper. Controlling the kiss was out of the question, so he simply basked in the heat of Mianite’s skin against his, the heat building in his chest, low in his gut. 

Mianite’s hands were all over him, up and down his back, then resting on his hips. Mianite pulled away, kissing Tucker’s cheek.

“Slowly, now,” he purred, “I’ll fuck you, nice and thorough like always. That’s what you want, right?”

Tucker whimpered pathetically, but nodded. His whole face was bright red- no, every inch of his skin, alight in a full body blush. 

“I want you to wreck me, fill me,” Tucker said, trying to sound sexy, grinding his hips against Mianite, feeling him starting to get hard against him. 

“And I will. How could I not?” Mianite reached between them, palming Tucker through his jeans, making him moan, “You’re beautiful. Even when you cannot do anything besides moan… making a mess of you is very, very enjoyable.”

“Hah, yeah, I’m a mess…”

Tucker leaned forward, hiding his face in Mianite’s neck, pressing open mouthed kisses to the hot skin. He shuddered underneath him. Tucker experimentally nibbled at his skin, heart leaping up to his throat as Mianite groaned appreciatively, finally opening the zipper of his pants. He sighed in relief, and went to stand, but before he could do anything Mianite stood from his throne, carrying him effortlessly, and setting him down on the cool marble floor. Tucker quickly pulled his pants off, his boxers going with them. There he was, bare before his god, but there came no fear, no uneasiness. 

Mianite’s eyes trailed up and down his body. Tucker shuddered, feeling exposed, but not in a bad way, somehow.

“Lay back.”

He obeyed, marble cold against his skin, but Mianite so, so hot.

Mianite hovered over him, Tucker panting and squirming under his gaze. He bucked his hips again, trying to get closer to Mianite, but all he did was lean down and kiss him, making his head spin and lungs falter for breath. Tucker tangled his hand into Mianite’s hair, sighing into the kiss at how soft it was. Tucker couldn’t stop jerking his hips, trying to find friction against Mianite’s thigh. 

Mianite nibbled his lip, then broke the kiss. Tucker sighed as Mianite pressed a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth, then over his jaw, mouth hot and wonderful against his skin. Mianite sucked and lapped at the skin over his pulse point. Tucker let his eyes slip shut, mind already wandering to the mark it would leave, dark and sensitive, a reminder of Mianite’s body, hot against his. Mianite started running a hand down his chest, brushing every single lingering mark from the day before, Tucker weakly keening, arching into the touch. 

“Hurry it up,” he begged.

Mianite said nothing, kissing his way down his neck, delicately kissing the old marks, leaving new ones in the untouched skin. Tucker grabbed onto his hair, pulling gently.

“Aren’t you going to fuck me?” Tucker whined. Mianite pulled away.

“I thought I’d take care of you.”

Tucker looked away. If he wasn’t already blushing, he would’ve turned an impressive shade of red.

Slowly, he mumbled; “I don’t need to be taken care of.” To admit he loved him was one thing. But he couldn’t admit to this sort of weakness, no matter what sweet nothings the god whispered.

Mianite’s hand wrapped around his throat. Not tightly, not even close, just a slight weight and an overwhelming warmth. Tucker gulped. 

“Liar,” he purred, “You want it, more than anything in the world, don’t you?”

He couldn’t help but squirm. Mianite gently ran his thumb over his pulse. 

“Aren’t you precious?” He cooed.

Tucker moaned, spreading his legs further apart. His hard cock bobbed and drooled on his stomach. Mianite could kill him without even thinking. His breath caught in his chest at the thought. Mianite could literally crush his windpipe in one big hand, crush it like it was a frail baby bird. 

“I’m not precious,” he muttered, even though every part of himself either cried for more sweet words or told him not to disagree with anyone who had a hand around his throat- god or not. 

Mianite stared at him, expression unreadable. His hand left his throat, and Tucker lifted his head off the ground, trying to chase the warmth, before flopping back onto the floor. 

“You are precious”, Mianite said, tone even. “Worth so much…” 

Tucker gasped as Mianite’s hand dipped between them, wrapping loosely around his cock. 

“...deserving of so much.”

Tucker bucked his hips, trying to chase the pleasure, but Mianite’s hand quickly released him and traveled up his body, leaving him hard and throbbing. Mianite’s lips were on his skin again, hotter than anything, Tucker whined, whole body alight with heat and some electric feeling. His head spun- arousal, hope, and some sort of sadness in an intoxicating cocktail of emotion.

Speaking of cock, that seemed to be the one place Mianite refused to touch. Instead he squeezed at his thighs hard enough to bruise, mouthing over his chest, then his stomach. Marking him thoroughly, licking and kissing the bites from the night before. His heart leapt in his chest as Mianite’s hands slipped from his thighs to his hips, stopping him from bucking them so desperately. Even in Mianite’s tight grip, he couldn’t stop them from stuttering, craving friction, pleasure, closeness. 

Every brush of Mianite’s lips against his skin made him crave it even more. Though it was nice, all the marks he would certainly leave would be a pleasant reminder in the morning. Mianite left one last kiss on his chest— right above his heart— before shifting up. He leaned in, kissing him hard. Tucker couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss, even as Mianite nipped and sucked at his lips. Then, too soon, he pulled away. Tucker panted, jaw slack and lips sore from so many kisses. 

Tucker almost cried when Mianite finally slipped his hand between his legs again, even the slightest touch of his hand against his cock sending a shock of pleasure up his spine. 

“My lord-“ he choked out, gasping and squirming as Mianite pressed a finger into him, still pliant from the previous night. And Mianite’s fingers were so thick, slick with conjured lube. Soon enough, a second finger joined the first. His toes curled, eyes rolling back. He curled his fingers, gently pressing against that spot inside him. With a broken cry, Tucker arched his back, moving his arms and trying to find traction on the marble floor, which had started to get wet with his sweat.

He tried to beg for more, but the words came out as a garbled coo. Mianite’s other hand cupped his face, brushing away tears Tucker didn’t even realize he was crying. He had likely never stopped. He was burning up from the inside, engulfed in a smoldering pleasure. Not a wildfire, just smoldering embers, softly scorching every inch of his skin.

“Please more,” he whimpered brokenly, trying to rock down onto Mianite’s thick fingers, “more, more—“

Mianite silenced him with a deep kiss, scissoring his fingers in a way that made Tucker’s jaw go slack. Mianite’s fingers did something he couldn’t wrap his head around and Tucker gasped, pulling back from the kiss with a moan. 

“Mia, I-“ 

He cut himself off, mouth closing with a click. His face felt sticky and weird from tears and the blush painting his features, messy. Even though he said it once, now he was undone and raw, and it would mean too much. He looked away. Mianite slowly dragged his fingers from him, Tucker whining at the loss and clenching around nothing.

Mianite took his time slicking up his own cock, hand moving slowly up and down the length. He was watching Tucker’s face as he did so, observing the way his cheeks were flushed and sweaty, lips already swollen and bruised. A delicate fragile human. He stroked Tucker’s hip reverently with his thumb from where he was pinning it to the floor. 

Tucker practically salivated as the god shifted his hand to spread Tucker’s legs and hoist his hips. He shuddered as he was hauled closer, the magic beneath Mianite’s skin now making his cock jump with every pulse and he dribbled precum onto his stomach.

He gasped when the fat head of Mianite’s cock bumped up against his hole and he wiggled his hips to try and spread himself open on it. But Mianite was in control. He spared a moment to press his thumb to Tucker’s slick rim, brushing across it and stretching him with a tug to the side. He wrung a desperate keening sound from Tucker’s throat. His eyes fluttered closed at the stimulation, only to fly open again as Mianite began to press his cock into him.

Mianite kept him spread as he pushed into him, the slow drag of his cock driving Tucker crazy. His back arched high off the floor as the god pressed deeper, stretching him further open with his thumb as he did so. Mianite’s cock inside him was familiar but no less electrifying than their first time. 

It was thick to the point that Tucker felt split open, big enough for him to properly writhe on in the throes of pleasure. Every inch had him moaning, muscles twitching and clenching around it. They’d done this so many times, and he’d taken Mianite so many times, but it was never paired with so much gentleness before.

Cascades of unintelligable “fuck me”s poured from his mouth as Mianite seated himself fully inside. He was very full and very strung out already, both from his god’s generous attention and his drained emotions. Everything felt far away but so, so close, as stretched and full as he was.

Mianite silenced him again with a kiss, as he tended to do, leaning over Tucker in the process and bending him practically in half. With both sides of Tucker’s hips in his big warm hands now, he couldn’t move at all. He was left with lolling his head from side to side, gasping and moaning as Mianite’s thick cock twitched inside him but didn’t move. Mianite squeezed at his hips, and even though he couldn’t keep his head still enough to see, he knew Mianite was staring down at him with pure adoration. Fuck, how couldn’t he fall in love? 

“You deserve this, Tucker. A taste of the love— the devotion you give me.”

Tucker didn’t get a chance to respond because the god rolled his hips, and his train of thought vanished in a low groan. Not that he would know what to say to that if he wasn’t stuffed full of holy cock. His eyes slipped shut and the god controlled the movements, fucking into to him at a nice even pace.

The stretch still felt heavenly, even after being ruined the night before. But this wasn’t ruining. This was soft, tender. Mianite went slowly, pulling all the way out before pressing back in, letting his thick cock drag across Tucker’s prostate in a way that made him squirm and whine. 

Speaking of whining, Tucker never could do a good job of keeping quiet. He just sort of had a loud personality in general, something which apparently translated to his more intimate activities. As Mianite took his time, never giving him more or faster than he was willing, Tucker moaned and whimpered like a goddamn porn star. 

Mianite certainly seemed to think so.

“So loud,” The god mused, settling a huge palm against Tucker’s jaw. “Like a little songbird. Is there something you want to say to me, my champion? I’m listening.”

“I love you.” He whimpered.

He drug his thumb down Tucker’s lower lip, and he opened his mouth, panting heavily, eyes glazed. Mianite still hadn’t faltered in his steady pace. Filling him with a weighted blanket of toe curling pleasure. 

“I told you I’d take care of you.”

The god sealed their mouths in a deep kiss and Tucker felt drool drip down his chin. He felt like he was choking. Choking on love, adoration, and devotion. Mianite’s tongue pressed against his own, sloppy and demanding. Their teeth clacked as Tucker threw himself further into it, begging for more with muffled noises of heady desire. 

His lungs began to burn, the sharp inhales through his nose not giving him enough oxygen to sate his thumping heart. Mianite still had him folded up, bent at his will, and was still kissing him senseless. The god’s beard scratched his face and Tucker knew that his swollen lips and beard burn would still be lingering long after. He loved the idea of it, loved Mianite.

Mianite drew his mouth away with a wet pop and Tucker gasped, chest heaving and aching as he took in deep lungfuls of cool sea air. Mianite didn’t give him time to catch his breath, suddenly ratcheting up the intensity and timing of his thrusts.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” he babbled, unable to stop the words cascading from his mouth. 

His filter had been destroyed, the dam burst by the intensity of his feelings. An hour ago he could barely say it through humiliated tears and now the phrase tumbled from his lips with ease as the god overwhelmed him. Fucked the shame out of him.

“Love you so much!” He shrieked, words squeaking into a moan as Mianite’s cock slammed into his prostate, over and over, “I’m so in love, God, Holy fuck, love you, love you, love you—“

Everything was starting to brim over, a bubbling potion of love and electric ecstasy. Mianite snapped his hips at a feverish pace, and a familiar one. This was something Tucker was used to. Though it was different. Normally where the god’s hands would squeeze or grope, instead he was met with soft caresses, a loving heavy drag down his oversensitive flesh. Mianite was being gentle, loving, almost— the thought sent a thrill through Tucker that rivaled the physical stimulation. 

Really it was a tiny detail that undid him. Mianite brushed his sweaty hair back from his forehead and planted a kiss there. The gesture was gentle and sweet. It so sharply contrasted the thourough fucking he was being given. 

He came suddenly, overcome by the delicate touch and his own frayed emotions. It coursed through his body like Mianite’s lightning overhead and he thrashed and spasmed in response. Mianite clutched him tightly, sure and steady like the sea. 

Tucker’s brain was frazzled as Mianite fucked him through his orgasm. He couldn’t form a thought beyond the tidal wave of sensation buffeting his wrung out form. Mianite finished inside him, cock twitching and filling him with cum as Tucker clenched around him. His breaths were still hitching gasps when the god slipped himself free and gently lowered Tucker’s legs to the marble. He couldn’t quite feel them yet. 

Tucker came down from his climax panting, whole body sweaty and shaking. Mianite ran a hand through his messy hair, then smooched him on the forehead again. He giggled, only a little overwhelmed. Scratch that, very overwhelmed.

“I love you,” Tucker said breathlessly, unable to do much but just lay still. His body and mind both off in the clouds somewhere. Mianite pulled a wet washcloth out of nowhere, opening Tucker’s legs up and quickly wiping up some of his cum, dragging it over his stomach, too.

“You’re a mess,” Mianite said, ever so fond. Tucker hummed his affirmative, wanting nothing more than to curl up into Mianite’s arms and fall asleep there. To feel the magic under his gods skin all night, and know it wasn’t a dream in the morning because Mianite would still be holding him, both of them skin to skin. The thought made his heart leap and sink at the same time- the possibility, while impossible, was tantalizing enough to make his mouth water—

Nope, he was still drooling. But he’d be fucked if he was able to raise his hand. Able or willing. Mianite ran his hand through his hair again, gently scratching his scalp for a second, repeating the motions again and again and again. Tucker let his eyes slip shut. 

“Don’t worry,” Tucker whispered, “I’ll grab my shit and go in a second.”

The hand in his hair stilled.

“You don’t have to,” Mianite said, tone… well, it was probably different from how he normally spoke, but Tucker couldn’t think properly between the haze of pleasure still crowding out his thoughts, and the big hand in his hair, so warm and large. 

“Do you want me to stay?” He asked. It felt too good to be true, like at any moment Tom would pop out of a bush and shout “pranked ya!”

Mianite said nothing, but pulled him into his lap so he was straddling him. Tucker winced. Really— twice in one night? Oh well, he’d had worse. But Mianite wasn’t moving to fuck him. His hand was still in his hair. The god closed the distance between them, kissing him softly on the corner of his still-swollen lips, then his cheek, the tip of his nose. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Tucker sighed, trying not to seem too desperate for it. But there really was no point in trying, Mianite already knew everything there was to know. That he was weak, pathetic, painfully human. 

And yet, he still peppered his face in kisses. Still wanted him to stay. Why? 

“I want to go to sleep,” Tucker slowly said, wishing Mianite would stop for only a second, just so he could wash his face. “I want to go to sleep in my own bed, but I want you there with me. I… I…”

“Love me? I know that—“

“No, let me finish.” He bit his lip, the pain not bothering him. “I want you there, with me. In bed. Not fucking, just… holding.”

Mianite pulled back.

“Like lovers?”

Tucker’s eyes went wide and he sputtered, trying to backtrack. Mianite only sighed, cupping his face in his hands.

“I will admit, I don’t understand love that well. It’s a strange part of human behavior, the romantic versus platonic versus sexual, the intricacies of love never fail to confuse. But I know one thing for certain— I care deeply for you. And that sounds pleasant to say the least, to lay with you and hold you against me, all through the night, guard you in your sleep and cradle you against me. Like lovers. Oh, my darling, you might just make a lover of me.”

Tucker couldn’t find any words to say, every last one of them lost to him. His face was hotter and redder than ever, his heart pounding, soaring up to the heavens. He couldn’t find words because there were no words to describe how he felt, the things he wanted. So, he put his mouth to better use, kissing Mianite as deeply as he possibly could. They’d never kissed this much, but now that he was hooked, it was a habit he’d never kick. If he ever got the chance to kiss him again. He really, really hoped he would. 

He closed his eyes. Mianite stroked his back, and the world shifted around them, the sounds of the sea going silent and replacing itself with the gentle crackle of burning torches, crickets that sang in the tall grass on the island. 

Mianite flopped back, as if he was anything close to exhaustion. Tucker braced himself to land on the floor of wherever he was, but instead it was soft. He opened his eyes, gasping when he realized where he was. His house, his bedroom. In his bed, bare, with Mianite. The moon shone through the window, a white, scornful glare, but what did that matter? The bed was warm. Mianite was warm. The fear, however, didn’t melt away, his whole body tense. He shifted, so he was laying atop his god, staring down into his eyes. The afterglow was fading, as it always did when he returned to his sheets, and a familiar paranoia crept back in. 

Wasn’t it just last night he had nearly prayed for this scenario? The timing of it was too perfect. Uneasily so. He hadn’t gotten to wash his face either.

“I’m still your champion, right?” Tucker questioned, “not just, like, your bitch?”

“Yes, Tucker,” He said, the low rumble of his voice shaking him to his core, “My champion. The bravest mortal I know-- A true warrior, fierce, capable, and determined. But I think that you forget the most important part sometimes.”

Tucker shivered from the praise, laying flat against Mianite, hiding his head in the crook of his neck.

“And what is that?” Tucker asked.

“That you are still human.”

Tucker looked up from his shoulder. He opened his mouth to say something, but Mianite continued.

“No matter how strong you say you are, you will always be human. Your humanity cannot be changed, it cannot be warped into diamond or forged into steel. You are only that— flesh and bone and bruises. You are rage, you are beauty. You are anguish, you are love.”

Tucker wiped his face, his whole body feeling heavy and sore. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

The silence hung heavily in the air, regret setting in the moment the words were put out there to mingle with the moonlight. He wiped his face again, hoping not to cry. Too late, it seemed- his hand was wet, damp skin gleaming with torchlight. But he didn’t look away, regret changing into longing, into boundless frustration.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better, somehow? I’m strong, right? Maybe not strong enough, but close, at least! I’m your champion. I’m your champion. And— and I’ve served you well in so many ways. I’ve given you everything I have everything I am I’ve given it all up and— and—“ he heaved in a breath, eyes too filled with tears to properly see into Mianite’s eyes, but he knew they were burning into him, “I’m strong, tough, I’m unbreakable. You can trust me.”

Mianite ran his hand up his spine in a hot, soothing line. He hiccuped.

“I’m in love with you,” he said, again, as if it would change anything. 

Mianite rolled onto his side, taking Tucker with him, so Tucker’s face was buried in his chest, two strong arms wrapping around him, an ethereal heat surrounding his body entirely. It was exactly what he wanted, every last bit of it, so why couldn’t he stop crying? If anything he’d started crying harder, weeping in the arms of this infallible being. He writhed and kicked, trying to escape. He was nude, he was bare. He was weak and frail. He’d left his clothes and armor and all his stuff at the temple. 

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Mianite whispered.

“Yes I do,” Tucker groaned, “Because I can’t be weak. I can’t. I can’t let anything get to me.”

“Then nothing can get to you, either,” Mianite reasoned.

Tucker sniffled.

“What?”

The god’s hand stilled on his back. 

“What I meant to say was, if you don’t let yourself be weak, if you don’t take your armor off, then you won’t ever be able to get the good things. Like this; you, bare before me, so… sublime.”

Tucker surprised himself by laughing, even though his face was blotchy and heavy-feeling. God, tonight was a game of emotion roulette. Sad to shameful to horny to happy to sad to something in between. Shit, Sonja was right. But overall, he was tired, weary to the bone. Mianite ran his hand down his back, his ass, his thighs, then up again, then down again, his hands a calming, grounding point. He sniffled again, smothering himself in Mianite’s chest, right between his pecs. He took in a shaky breath.

“I am strong,” he murmured. Mianite hummed.

“Yes, but you don’t always have to be. I… apologize for making you cry. I hate that I tend to do that.”

Mianite pulled him impossibly closer, shrouding him in warmth and a heavy, solid security. He wished he could melt into it, but every muscle in his body was tense as a bowstring, ready to snap. It didn’t mix well with the weariness he felt. Oil on water. Human on God. 

“My lord—“

“Hush,” Mianite purred, hand rubbing lazy little circles into his back. “Let yourself enjoy this. It’s what you want, it’s what you crave, relax. Let me hold you.”

Mianite’s hand ran down his back again, and Tucker pressed himself flush against Mianite, so every single bit of him felt warm, covered, loved. Scared out of his wits still, exhausted, but so warm. He thought back to that armor, the set that supposedly had broken. It was enchanted to never break, sure, but he couldn’t throw himself into battle and not expect some wear-and-tear. Maybe that’s what was happening to him, he was worn, torn, and desperately in love.

That word felt smaller. Love. Less threatening, more real.

“Goodnight, my champion.”

“Goodnight, my love,” Tucker whispered. 

Without any more doubts, he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. A gust of wind extinguished the torches, the room filled with gentle moonlight. 

Tucker fell asleep in Mianite’s arms, dreams sweet and body limp.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy this was a doozy— this took a wholeass month to write. Huge thanks to the Mianite discord and my buddy Kiwi for helping out with the smut (since this is the first time I’ve ever written it).
> 
> If you want more Mianite, come follow my Tumblr, Mianite-3-Unofficial , where I write about the season that never will be


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